


golden fields so filled with memories (tell me, tell me, when will i see you again)

by inkstained_pages



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Endings, Gen, Introspection, Light Angst, Metaphors, Poetic, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, This Is Sad, War, but that's alright, copious amounts of gold, fields, no beta we die like tommy, tommy and tubbo deserved better man..., very poetic if i do say so myself, you'll understand when you read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:54:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29882112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkstained_pages/pseuds/inkstained_pages
Summary: There was a field once. A long time ago. So long ago that Tubbo isn't sure when or where it was. He dreams of the field sometimes, but this is the first time a person has been here."You're dead," Tubbo says matter-of-factly."I know," Tommy replies.Or,In which there are apologies, promises, and endings.
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 14
Kudos: 84





	golden fields so filled with memories (tell me, tell me, when will i see you again)

**Author's Note:**

> so sorry for not being around for like... ever. depression is a bitch, but now i'm back with this whatever this is.
> 
> first try at present tense, i hope it's good :D
> 
> this was... interesting to write. i’ve always been a fan of poetic/bittersweet endings, and i think this did the job well. it may not be canon compliant, but i like this idea of closure. 
> 
> This is a look at Tommy and Tubbo, and the way that they will always be connected, no matter if they are dead or not.
> 
> enjoy :)

_ golden field so filled with memories _

_ tell me, tell me, when will I see you again? _

_ when the sky goes dark and the flowers fade _

_ will you wait for me, wait for me, on the other end? _

  
  
  


There was a field once. A long time ago. So long ago that Tubbo isn't sure when or where it was.

He remembers gold though.

Gold light filtering through the clouds. Gold grass swaying in the gentle breeze. Gold petals, dandelions and sunflowers, woven into a crown placed on Tubbo's head. Tommy's gold hair, shining in the dying rays of light.

He remembers the stream that bubbled through the field, the times spent splashing in it's cooling waters. He remembers the willow tree they spent hours swinging from branch to branch in, the way they felt perfectly at home in the swaying leaves. He remembers teaching Tommy how to make flower crowns, the sunflower and dandelion one that Tommy made Tubbo, and the tulip and poppy one Tubbo made Tommy.

He remembers the initials etched into the willow tree, long before there was a bench to carve the letters in. T and T. Tommy and Tubbo, Tubbo and Tommy. Always together, never apart.

Those had been simple days. Happy days.

When was the last time he was happy? Tubbo can't remember.

Was it back when he was president of a nation? Further back, when L'manburg had just been born by Wilbur, Tommy, and Tubbo? Or perhaps back when the Dream SMP was home, when Tommy and Tubbo could act like kids and have fun without being shot to death or blamed for every problem that existed.

Maybe the field was his last happy memory. The last time he was able to be a child, when they were both allowed to be children. When they could play pirates and sailors, knights and kings. When the wars were all make believe and the only gunshots that sounded were the sounds they made to imitate them.

Tubbo wonders why war ever sounded appealing.

Whatever glory was promised by the men who started the bloodshed never came to be. There was no bright victory, no brilliant heroes. There was only pain and suffering and the cries of the people you love getting slaughtered.

Sometimes, when the bangs of fireworks and the screams of the dead and dying are all that echo in his ears, Tubbo recalls the field. He goes back there for a while, and if he's lucky, he'll dream about it. Those are the only nice dreams he ever has anymore.

When he opens his eyes in the field, he knows he's dreaming. He's always dreaming when he comes here. Sometimes he thinks that the field is only a dream, that there was never anything real about it, just a figment of his imagination in an attempt to find peace.

But then he remembers the time he and Tommy sat huddled under their tree, a few days after Phil left them for Techno, leaving Wilbur in charge. He remembers the raw feeling of abandonment and the sting of betrayal. That wasn't a dream. So neither is the field.

There's something different about the field this time, though. The gold is still there, familiar and soothing. The soft breeze is there, the tree and the bubbling stream.

Oh. There's a person. They're humming a familiar tune, a bunch of flowers in their hands.

Tubbo blinks in surprise, before drawing closer cautiously. The tall grass parts as he walks through it, gold in the setting sun.

Tubbo stops a few feet away, suddenly recognizing the person sitting in front of him.

Of course it would be him. It's always him.

Tubbo closes the distance and sits down beside Tommy, no sound except the rustling wind and quiet brook.

Tommy is making a flower crown. The same one from all those years ago, golden dandelions and sunflowers.

In all Tubbo's memories, he never remembered so much red. It covers Tommy, crimson spilling from gashes on his head, from his mouth and nose. Bruises adorn his body and red stains his shirt.

Tubbo wishes for the gold back.

There's silence for a few moments, before Tubbo breaks it.

"You're dead," he says matter-of-factly.

"I know," Tommy replies. He doesn't look up, continuing with the crown.

"Why are you here?" He asks carefully. "I've always come here alone."

"Why weren't you there?" Is all that is said back.

The words hurt. They seize Tubbo's heart with an iron grip and twist. They dig deep into his most hidden thoughts and drag out the crushing guilt he's been hiding ever since Sam told them Tommy was gone.

The words hurt because they're true, and Tubbo knows it. He was never there for Tommy. They promised each other years ago, in this very meadow, that it would be them against the world.

Somewhere along the way, it turned into the world against Tommy. Tubbo wonders where he was when that happened.

There's more silence, heavy with unspoken words. Tubbo supposes they should be said, or they'll be here for hours.

"What now?" He asks quietly.

Tommy shrugs. "Dunno. Last thing I remember is Dream beating me to death. I woke up here."

He finally looks up, and his eyes lock with Tubbo's.

One of them is bright blue, the colour so distinctly Tommy. The other is a dull grey, like his eyes had been during exile.

They stare at each other for a few seconds.

"Maybe the universe finally took pity on us," Tubbo says. "Maybe it's giving us a chance to say goodbye."

Tommy snorts quietly and breaks their eye contact. "You should know as well as I do that the universe is never kind."

Tubbo hums in agreement, before leaning against Tommy cautiously. The blond stiffens for a second, and Tubbo prepares to pull away again, but then Tommy sinks into him, and Tubbo stays.

They stay like that for a while, Tommy fiddling with the flower crown and Tubbo tracing his fingers up and down Tommy's arm to reassure himself his friend is still there.

"I'm sorry," he finally murmurs. "I should've been there."

"It's alright Tubbo," Tommy says softly. "We both know it was meant to happen. Besides, I'm not even sure how long I'll stay dead."

Tubbo blinks in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"If that bastard isn't lying about the resurrection book, I bet he just killed me to make a point," Tommy huffs. "He'd never let me go that easily."

Tubbo sighs. He knows Tommy is right. 

Still.

It hurts that such things exist in the world. That men slaughter children to prove a point. That children consider death a more peaceful option than life.

Because that's what they are, children.

People forget that Tubbo is 17. They forget that Tommy was 16. They forget that presidency is meant for adults, for people who have lived for far longer than Tubbo ever has and maybe ever will. They forget that war is supposed to be fought to protect children, not force them to fight and die.

They forget that behind the scars and war-hardened hearts, Tubbo is a child. Tommy was a child.

They forget they murdered a child.

"If he was lying," Tubbo whispers, "what then?"

"I don't know," Tommy replies honestly. "I guess then I'm dead."

He says it so casually, like death is nothing new to him. It isn't, Tubbo knows. It's not new for him either. Still, it makes tears swim in his eyes.

"Will I ever see you again?"

"'Course," Tommy grins down at Tubbo. "You couldn't get rid of me if you tried, bitch. I'll wait for you."

And those words-

They mean more to Tubbo than almost anything else ever has.

Because Tubbo was always the follower, the one who trailed behind Tommy as they paved their way to glory. He was always the one left out of the brotherly affections Wilbur and Tommy shared. He was more or less in the shadow of Tommy.

People used to give Tommy grief for 'forgetting' about Tubbo, for making fun of him and being mean.

They forget the times Tommy reigned in the teasing when he noticed Tubbo's eyes flash with hurt at a comment that dug too deep.

They forget about the moments when Tommy tugged Tubbo along behind him, never letting the other fall too far behind.

They forget the nights after battle where the two boys would sit together in a corner, practically on top of each other and wrapping each other's wounds.

They forget the time when L'manburg blew up and Tommy's only concern was Tubbo.

People forget things so easily, choosing only to remember that which makes the loser the villain.

Perhaps that is why history is so ugly. The ones who strive to be heroes are exiled from their homes, burned at the stake, slaughted for countries that will not remember them kindly. 

Yes, Tubbo thinks. History is ugly.

He would’ve liked to rewrite it with Tommy. He’s not sure that will ever happen now.

“What if I live for a long time?” Tubbo asks. “Will you still wait?”

Tommy only rolls his eyes, and places the finished flower crown on Tubbo’s head. “You always did underestimate my patience.” He looks down at Tubbo, and their gazes meet once again.

Both eyes are bright blue now. There is a heaviness to them, a weight that Tubbo knows they both carry. But there’s also a fierce loyalty and love that burns in them.

“I’d wait a million years for you, Tubbo.” The words are soft, barely audible to anyone but them, though they’re alone. He knocks his forehead against Tubbo’s, a gesture Phil had taught them years ago, before he left them. “However long it took you, I’d wait.”

Tubbo closes his eyes and rests against Tommy. “Then I suppose I can wait too.”

They stay in that position for a while, foreheads against each other, eyes closed, simply being with each other for quite possibly the last time.

When they do pull away and Tubbo opens his eyes, he’s surprised to find that the sky has gone purple and pink, the golden sunset from before melting into a violet dusk.

“Oh.” Tubbo gazes in wonder as stars start to blink into existence before his eyes. “This is new. It’s never changed from the gold before.”

He looks back to Tommy, but stares in horrified realization when he sees his other half fading.

“Tommy!” He cries out, reaching for him. His hand passes right through Tommy’s chest, and he recoils back. 

“It’s alright, Tubbo,” Tommy says softly, his eyes kind and smile warm. “This is just the end of the dream.” He looks up at the sky and the stars shine in his eyes. “The sun’s set on my life. Maybe I’ll be back, but only when the sun rises again.”

He chuckles lightly when Tubbo feels tears run down his cheeks.

“Don’t cry big man. After all, I said I’d see you again, didn’t I?” He places a somehow warm hand on Tubbo’s cheek, and Tubbo leans into it.

“I love you, Tubbo.”

Tubbo sniffs and blinks away the tears, determined to see his best friend until the end.

“I love you too, Tommy.”

He blinks.

Tubbo wakes up.

Golden light filters through his window, and a soft breeze drifts through his open window. 

There’s a flower crown on his desk. Sunflowers and dandelions.

Tubbo smiles as tears trail down his cheeks again.

Maybe he can be happy again, someday.

Until then, Tommy will wait.

Tubbo can too.

  
  
  


_ the sun may set and the day comes to a close _

_ i promise, i promise, we will meet again _

_ through the years, through the pain, through endless void _

_ i will wait for you, wait for you, on the other end. _

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos give me life <3


End file.
